Lexie watched as Fletcher grabbed an oversized backpack by the door and shoved his feet into a pair of heavy-duty boots. He whipped to face her, an unnatural shade of white taking over his face. “What did you just say?” She laughed and leaned on the doorframe, glad to have finally discomposed him. Ever since Fletcher’s pager had gone off, he’d been like some kind of robot, clicking into action and refusing to look her in the eye. Even now, moving efficiently through his freakishly neat house, he barely registered her presence. She gestured at the backpack. “A bag at the door, double-checking to make sure you have everything, an overriding sense of panic. I’ve always assumed this is what happens when a husband and wife get ready to head to the hospital for a baby. It’s like that. You know, minus the baby. Or that whole husband-wife thing.” The white in Fletcher’s face was quickly replaced by a blossoming red. In Sean, red signaled his short temper. In Fletcher, it was more likely embarrassment.
